


Ink Stains

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Star Trek Bingo 2020 [17]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, artist!tasha, i kept datas android coloring because i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Tasha is a tattoo artist forEnterprise, Inc.She gets a very intriguing customer.
Relationships: Data/Tasha Yar
Series: Star Trek Bingo 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875274
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	Ink Stains

**Author's Note:**

> For the bingo square "body modification." I wrote this around the time I got my own power button tattoo (with Data's rank pips to match). I really, really love the idea of Tasha just covered in tattoos and piercings. I think that would be a good look for her. The teen rating might be a little overkill, but its there for mild sexual references and descriptions of tattooing. Probably could have gotten away with a gen rating, but I wanted to be on the safe side.

Tasha wasn’t the kind of girl that people brought home to meet their parents. Admittedly, she was pretty sure that had less to do with the kind of first impression she made and more to do with the types of relationships – or lack thereof – she entered into, but it was nice to have a scapegoat that didn’t force her to question her life choices so much. Because Tasha did question the kinds of men and women she’d brought home in the past, and her reasons for doing it, to the point where she had stopped doing it altogether just a few years ago. But if there was one thing she was never going to question, it was her ink. After all, people said to follow your passions. And unlike other passions, these particular ones had led Tasha right to where she belonged.

Her name might not have been on the lease for _Enterprise, Inc.,_ but it didn’t make much difference. The parlor was her home, had been in her mind almost since she got her eyebrow pierced there at fifteen, followed by her nose, her spider bites, her tongue, and almost a dozen between her ears (not including the industrial piercing she’d had to do twice, when the holes had closed up the first time). By that point, she’d been eighteen and well overdue for dropping out of high school. The only reason she hadn’t was the shop’s owner. Picard had shown a faith in her that no one else had, had seen something in an emancipated minor from a shitty background that no one else had wanted to see. She had graduated with his encouragement, had gone to art school at his recommendation, did the training and become one of his piercers even before she got any of her own ink, much less an apprenticeship under him. Now, years later, she had the piercings, the tattoos, the job, and more importantly the family that she’d never had before. And that was worth every suburban mom who eyed her with disdain in the grocery store, every guy who told her she’d have been pretty if she took the metal out of her face. It was more than just a job, as far as Tasha was concerned. It was where she was meant to be.

She was alone in the entryway when the door chimed. Walk-ins were a little unusual at two on a Wednesday afternoon, especially in late fall after school had started for high schoolers and college kids alike, but they still happened, and Tasha looked up automatically, her customer service smile falling easily into place as she half-turned to face the man in the doorway. And then she stopped.

Normally, Tasha was good at not staring. It took a lot to faze her to begin with, and she’d learned early on how to mind her own damn business. But in this case, it was hard not to stare.

It wasn’t just because the man was attractive, although objectively that was true. He had slicked-back hair and angular features, but they were oddly soft, in a way that made him seem pretty rather than rugged. It was disarming; Tasha had an unfortunate tendency to remain on her guard around strangers, particularly men, but something about the openness in this man’s expression had the automatic tension bleeding from her shoulders before she could really think about it. But that still wasn’t why she was staring.

She was staring because he was unlike anything she’d ever seen, and not in a sappy, romantic way. His skin was deathly pale, not like someone who’d been cooped up indoors too long but in a way that reminded Tasha of textbook pictures of albinism, staunchly white and almost shimmering under the parlor’s lights. She might have even been able to contain the staring if he had truly been albino, but his irises…Tasha hadn’t even known yellow was _possible_ for humans. True, they could have been contacts, but it was just jarring enough to keep her gaze fixed on him, unblinking, while he shifted in the doorframe, looking around as if uncertain, double checking the sign in the window that announced ‘Walk-Ins Welcome.’

It took a moment, but eventually she managed to compose herself, clearing her throat more for her own benefit than his. “Hey. What can we do for you?” She forced her eyes to slide down to the clipboards on the glass case in front of her, each one with a neatly blank form on top. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him approach the counter.

“I am looking to have a tattoo done.”

He had a very particular way of speaking. It reminded Tasha of Siri, or maybe one of those private schools that required elocution lessons. He rested his hands on the counter, in her line of vision. He had nice hands, the nails shiny, maybe even manicured, and strong, calloused fingers. He probably worked with his hands, then, but doing something dexterous. Precision work. Tasha’s mouth went dry, and she wet her lips. He was probably the definition of ‘good with his hands.’

By choice or otherwise, it had clearly been too long since Tasha had gotten laid. She derailed the train of thought and pulled herself together, lifting her chin to meet his gaze with a polite smile. “Well, that’s what we do here. What were you thinking of getting?”

“A power button. Just a small one, at approximately the center of my back, alongside the spine.”

“Okay. We can definitely do that. Is this your first tattoo?” It was hard to tell. Admittedly, Tasha had known (and tattooed) plenty of people who didn’t exactly look like the type to get inked, but there was an air of uncertainty about him. His clothes covered him to the wrist, barely any skin showing, so that wasn’t a help. He wasn’t exactly dressed for a tattoo appointment.

In confirmation, he nodded. “Your shop came highly recommended.”

Tasha smiled, and this one wasn’t just for customer service. “That’s good to hear.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Were you looking for any artist in particular?”

“I have no preference.”

“Great.” Tasha flipped open the appointment book. “When were you thinking you’d like it done?”

“Whenever is available.”

Well, he was an easy one. Tasha drummed her fingers lightly on the countertop. “I’ve got an opening now, if you’ve got the time.” Deanna was with another client in the back, and Picard wouldn’t be in until the next day, but thanks to a cancellation, Tasha’s afternoon was completely free.

The man cocked his head. “I am available.”

“Perfect.” She slid a form towards him. “I just need you to fill this out, and an ID please.”

She watched him write, reading the script upside down. She bit down on her tongue to stop from questioning the name – Data Soong wasn’t exactly a common one – and to stop herself from double-checking that he didn’t have any medical condition that could prove to be a problem. Tasha had been lied to before, and the anemic college student passed out on the studio’s floor had not been a good time for anyone.

Data finished signing his name and then pulled out an ID, setting it down on top of the clipboard and passing it back to her. Tasha scanned the picture; yellow eyes, which meant he wasn’t wearing contacts. She bit back a chuckle. That had probably gone down poorly at the DMV.

“Alright!” she said. “Minimum deposit is fifty dollars, and that’ll come out of the total price of the session.”

He passed over a credit card, and she swiped it, then handed it back and gestured over to the leather sofa. “Take a seat, and I’ll be right back with this.”

He sat, and Tasha slipped into the back to scan the store a copy. Deanna gave her a friendly smile as she passed, only half-glancing up from the girl she had on her side, wiping away a smear of blood from the intricate flower design she was working on. Tasha paused just for a minute to watch. Deanna did a lot of flowers, but she was good at them. She’d done Tasha’s flower tattoos, spiny cactus bulbs and trails of gladiolus that climbed partway up her neck and dripped over her shoulders, covering most of the skin. Tasha had never been half that good at plants. Her talents were better suited to sharper edges, like the crystal bunches she had scattered across her body, or the compass on her wrist. She hadn’t actually done most of those herself, but she had done the dagger on her forearm, the twisted blade a work she had been particularly proud of at the time.

Data stood when she returned to the front room, and she handed back his ID. “If you want to run home for a minute, to change or eat or drink some water or something, that’s fine. I don’t have any other appointments today.”

Data glanced down at his shirt – long-sleeved, black and yellow – and then back up at her, cocking his head again. “I did my research before coming in. I believe I am properly prepared.”

Tasha shrugged. “Alright, then.” She leaned against the counter. “Power button, you said? Anything fancy, or…?”

Data pulled out his phone, and Tasha bent forward over the counter to see the screen. It was pretty basic. Absolutely doable. She nodded. “Okay. How big?”

He showed her, making a circle with his fingers, and Tasha nodded again. “Got it. Wait here, and I’ll come back out to get you.”

It took her only a couple minutes to print out the design, and then she was leading Data back to her workspace. He followed her silently, his face still impassive but polite, and he lifted his shirt without awkwardness, twisting around so Tasha could apply the stamp to the small of his back, just to the right of the spine. He checked the mirror and nodded, and then let Tasha arrange him face-down on the chair, watching her as she opened the sterilized needle packet, pulling out the black ink. She sat beside him, and he didn’t even flinch when the needle first buzzed to life. “Ready?”

“I am ready.”

She set the needle to skin, tracing the outline. “So, is it the robot aesthetic you’re into, or…?”

He blinked, glancing back at her. Then he shook his head. “It is a family thing.”

“Oh?”

“My brothers have similar ones. Our father is a computer engineer, and he does a great deal with cybernetics. It is…something of a family joke.”

“Cool.” Tasha had done a couple of power buttons in her time, but she’d never heard that one before. “You have a lot of brothers, then?”

“Several. Although we are not particularly close.”

“But you’re getting matching tattoos with them?”

“We are a somewhat unusual family,” Data allowed. He glanced back at her again. “You are curious.”

“Hmm?”

“It is a genetic condition.”

She blinked, professionalism keeping her from pausing with the needle longer than it took to apply more ink. “Oh?”

Data nodded. “It runs in my family. Most of us have it. It is not dangerous, nor contagious.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.” Really, she wasn’t. She might have been curious, but Tasha was a professional, and she did know how to mind her own business. She thickened the line, watching the red bead up around the black. “I imagine you get asked a lot.”

“It does appear to preoccupy people,” Data acknowledged. He shifted minutely, and Tasha rucked his shirt back up a little where it was slipping. He had nice back muscles too, and Tasha was willing to bet his arms were just as strong.

She shook her head. Focus. Client. “Well, the ink will really stand out, at least.” She traced the curve down, away from the spine.

“Does it ever bore you? Doing such basic designs?”

Tasha blinked. She wasn’t sure he could see it from his angle, but she gave half a shrug. “Not really. I like a good challenge, but I’ve also got bills to pay. I’m not exactly going to complain about the easy ones. If people want their Harry Potter, matching heart, sun and moon doodles, that’s fine by me. Someone has to do it, and it’s good business for us.”

“That makes sense.” He was quite for a moment. He must have had a decent pain tolerance, Tasha thought, because even when she started tracing a little closer to the spine he didn’t so much as twitch. “Did it hurt?” he asked after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“The one on your neck. Did it hurt?”

Tasha almost put a hand to it on instinct, and stopped herself. There wasn’t much point to wearing gloves if she was just going to go around touching bloody latex to her skin. But she knew which one he was talking about. Picard had done it, a little ringed planet just by her carotid artery, swirling with color and surrounded by a cluster of stars. She’d never seen anyone tattoo galaxy print quite like him. “Kind of,” she told Data. “But not nearly as much as you’re probably thinking.” She filled in the arc just beside his spine, watching carefully in case he started to squirm as she pressed at the sensitive point. “We’re almost done.”

Data let out a soft sound, like a hum, and Tasha smiled. She finished off the tattoo, then set the needle aside, wiping off the blood and cleaning the area again. She covered it, and Data sat up, pushing his shirt down carefully. She pulled off her gloves with a snap. “Alright. You can sit there a minute, if you need. I’m going to get you some instructions for taking care of that. We recommend Aquaphor for the healing cream, if you don’t have it already.”

Data nodded dutifully, and Tasha fetched the instructions, trading it for the credit card to finish charging him. He stayed sitting, watching her, and Tasha tried not to blush and squirm over the intensity of his gaze. It wasn’t that is was creepy, and there was no heat to it. It just made her feel…seen. She cleared her throat and handed his card back to him. “You’re good to go.”

“Thank you.” Data handed her a folded bill and she took it, giving him a nod of thanks for the tip.

“If you need any touch-ups or anything, please stop by,” she told him, and Data smiled. He had a nice smile. Tasha swallowed hard, fiddling with her tongue piercing to avoid saying anything more. She watched him walk out, and then looked down at the tip in her hand, her eyes widening at the twenty-dollar bill. A lot of Tasha’s first-timers didn’t seem to know to tip, and most of them didn’t tip well. If she hadn’t been curious about Data before, with the interesting eyes and the matching tattoo with a family he wasn’t particularly close to and the body that was honestly too attractive to be in any way a good idea, Tasha was definitely curious now. She bit her lip and leaned against the front counter, watching the doorway for longer than she would have cared to admit, glad that Deanna was still in the back with a customer, where she couldn’t tease Tasha for what was definitely _not_ pining over a man she’d spent about half an hour with. Data was intriguing, that’s all. And Tasha, although not for the reasons she would have admitted to the other employees of _Enterprise, Inc.,_ definitely hoped he’d come back.


End file.
